Should services in
church be read - or sung? If you had lived in Little Stonham in 1872, you
could well have thought that the entire issue of the rights of man hung in
the balance on this one question. The Reverend Barlee knew at least one
thing for certain, and he took pains to make it plain to everyone. He, and
he alone, had the authority to decide. But he was unable to make up his
mind. And it is here that the other awkward character in the plot has to
be introduced: Harvey.

Edgar Harvey was a rumbustuous young labourer, known and liked by
everyone in the village, full of life, full of himself, and in particular,
full of an apparently inaccurate conception of the quality of his own
voice, which he felt obliged to spill into the ears of every bird, animal
and man for miles around. . . . He had been born to serve music and,
in particular, to sing. When he came into the fields in the morning, he
sang: the rooks scattered into a ragged squawking crowd out of the trees;
the finches shot out of the hedges. As he worked away on his cart, he
sang: and the horse stood by in a stunned condition, or jogged slowly and
doggedly on in sheer resignation. In the firelit parlour of the pub at
night, it was Harvey's voice, with those of his bosom palls John Tupplin
and Berry, that led the singing. Harvey loved everything musical,
especially his own voice, and there is no doubt he had a strong following
in the village. How far the idea was official nobody ever seemed to know -
indeed it was thought by some (including Mr Barlee) that an earlier
church-warden had sacked him from this "post" - but it had
certainly come to be taken for granted that Harvey was the choirmaster.
When his voice rang out over the polished pews in the bare Little Stonham
Church, the congregation warmed to his enthusiasm. It was, at least,
undeniable evidence of life - and of life warmly enjoyed. Everybody in the
congregation, except that is, the Reverend Barlee, Mrs Barlee and a new
young lady who had begun to play the organ, Miss Smith.

Mrs Barlee found Harvey very vulgar. His voice might well have been a
foghorn as far as she was concerned. She wilted when it sounded. She and
Miss Smith were the musicians in the church - those with a knowledge
of music - and she and Miss Smith would decide what music was played or
sung, and the form of the singing. She gradually insisted on ousting
Harvey and his choir from the singing gallery and having there instead, on
occasion, a small company of children. Whether in rehearsal or in
performance, Harvey and his voice now had no place at all. He had been
edged out of things, and into a condition of smarting frustration. It was
the same with Miss Smith, too, She resented his presence in the
organ-loft. Who was he to tell her about music? To choose the pieces? And
besides that, he was too free, uncontrolled and clumsy altogether - a
rough rude labouring type.

But if the Reverend Barlee was not certain about whether the services
should be read or sung, Edgar Harvey was. Whatever a new, interfering,
upstart of a parson from Framlingham might think about it, he, Harvey, was
going to sing. . . . One day in August 1872, in all the mounting
bitterness of feeling, all the gossip of vacillating indecision, a
juncture came.

The Reverend Barlee took his wife and family away for a long holiday -
an event which none of the parishioners minded . . . and while the cat was
away the mice decided to play. For six whole weeks they sang their heads
off - hymns and chants alike - glorious! All the time the services were sung.
All the time, the services were enjoyed. Harvey came into his own.
His voice roared out in full liberty. The stained glass windows shook and
rattled with it. Warm eyes and hearts caught its enthusiasm.

When, six weeks later, on a Sunday, the Reverend Barlee drove back into
the village, he heard what to others was a glad sound, but to him was an
anathema. At once, this decided him. His mind was made up, irrevocably.
Harvey should not have his own way. From now on, services should not be
sung, but read! In the week or two that followed, matters came to a head.
Miss Smith and Mrs Barlee flatly refused to play the organ when Harvey
came anywhere near. Barlee himself had one more talk with Harvey to make
things plain. And finally Mrs Barlee even locked the organ, and sometimes
the loft to the organ and singing gallery. From then on, whenever Harvey
was anywhere in sight, only the harmonium could be used.

Music was silenced at Little Stonham. Ecclesiastical authority had
clamped down . . . Eventually, on 6th October 1872, the crisis arrived.
The afternoon service began - and took a strange course.

The congregation was large and attentive. Mr Barlow ended the reading
of the first lesson quite normally. Quite normally he asked his flock to
stand and say the Magnificat, and quite normally he began to read
it:

But he had not gone very far when an awful and unbelievable sound
jarred on his ears. How could it be possible? He stopped reading, his eyes
rising in sheer disbelief and growing fury to the singing gallery which
faced the pulpit. And there, standing at the very front, were Harvey, John
Topplin, Berry and two other young men - singing the Magnificat
lustily and full-bloodedly. Their voices filled the church with:

For he has regarded the lowliness of his handmaiden
For behold, from henceforth, all generations shall call me
blessed. . .

Mr Barlee flung out an arm towards them, as though issuing a command
from on high. "Stop! Silence! Silence, I say!" But the male
chorus went on . . .

For he that is mighty hath magnified me and holy is
His Name.

Barlee thumped the pulpit, and, seeing the local constable, P C Cook,
in the pews below, called out to him "Constable Cook! Remove those
men from this church. Remove that man Harvey from that gallery!

Constable Clark, undecided and ill at ease . . . indicated Mr Edwards
[a church-warden] who was sitting nearby, but Mrs Edwards put her hand out
and restrained her husband from having anything to do with it, as the
singers rounded off their performance in warm enjoyable tones . . .

He hath showed strength with his arm, he hath
scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

"I command you! Take those men out of this place of worship. Take
them into custody! I . . . " Barlee kicked open the pulpit door
with a loud bang and walked down the aisle. "Come with me!"

Mrs Barlee stretched an unavailing arm from her pew in an effort to
stop him. "Restrain yourself, Willie, don't get so excited."

He put down the mighty from their seat. . .

sang Harvey and his cronies, looking down on the scene as Barlee
stalked down the aisle to argue with P C Cook. And then the congregation
began in ones and twos, and then closely crowding on each others' heels,
out of the church.

"I tell you, Constable Cook," cried Barlee, in a passion,
"there is no church-warden here - not Mr Edwards or anyone else. I
tell you, I insist, it is my responsibility alone. Now, please, do as I
authorise you. Be a good man - remove those men! This instant! They are
breaking the law. I will not have my services wrecked in this
manner!"

P C Cook turned miserably away, glancing up at the singers as he made
his way to the door of the organ loft and they in turn smiled down on him
as the music continued. . .

. . . and hath exalted the humble and meek. . .

They went on, uninterruptedly, as Cook came into the gallery and tried
to remonstrate with them.

He hath filled the hungry with good things and the
rich he hath sent empty away. . .

He persisted for a while, trying to argue with them, but then turned to
look down at Mr Barlee, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head
helplessly.

He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant,
Israel,
As he promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed, forever.

By this time Barlee had been joined by his wife and Miss Smith - all of
them standing immediately under the singing gallery and the five young
men. Barlee was beside himself with rage.

"I will take them to court, I will! Such disgrace! Such behaviour!
We shall see who is in authority here!"

He waved his fist, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the church,
then along the path and out of the churchyard gate, through little knots
of people who were standing about in agitated conversation.
Meanwhile, the Magnificat was sung to its resounding conclusion to an
empty church.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the
Holy Ghost,
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world
without end, Amen.

That, or something like that, is what happened on that October
afternoon.

Three weeks later, Harvey was summonsed to Needham Market police court
and charged with 'having on 6 October, maliciously and contemptuously,
entered a certain church established by law, situated at Little Stonham,
wherein a congregation of Protestants assembled, and did disquiet and
disturb the said congregation by singing loudly during the divine service.

October 26th, 1872

CHURCH TROUBLES AT LITTLE STONHAM

THE SINGERS AND THE CURATE: SERVICE STOPPED: A POLICEMAN
DECLINING TO INTERFERE WITH CHURCH MATTERS

The Rev. W Barlee, the choir at
Little Stonham, and the congregation which usually attend the
church there, appear to be at daggers drawn - if we may be allowed
the simile in connection with the peaceful functions of
church worship - and on a Sunday, the 6th of this month, matters
reached a climax. Mr Barlee, is the curate in charge and has
resided there about two years. It would appear that he has
been undecided as to whether the Magnificat,Te Deum,
and the Jubilate Deo, &c, should be sung or read,
sometimes having them done one way and sometimes the other.
In August, however, the rev. gentleman was absence for about six
weeks, and during that time Mr Sheppard officiated, and this
gentleman, being a lover of 'music' always had the chaants
chanted, but Mr Barlee, on returning, went back to the old
practice as regards them. Beyond this there appears to have
been some unpleasantness between the rev. gentleman and choir
master, named Harvey, which led to the former some time ago giving
notice in the church that there should be no singing in the church
whilst the latter remained in the singing gallery. On Sun.
6th Oct. Mr Barlee had just completed the first lesson of the
afternoon service, and was going to read the Magnificat,
when the choir master and four or five others began to chant
it. The minister is in command as to the singing and he was
no doubt somewhat annoyed, and ordered Cook, P C, who was at his
devotions in church, to turn the choir master
out. Cook thought it was not the clergyman's but
the church-warden's duty to order persons out and for once did not
act upon 'information received', whereupon Mr Barlee said the
responsibility rested upon him alone and called loudly for the din
to stop. Opinions differ as to Mr Barlee's manner at this
juncture, but it is certain that. . .

Newspaper

It then went to the Ipswich Quarter Sessions with an article and three
letters to the Ipswich Chronicle in January 1873.

Harvey was well known in the village and there were people who, as
school children, remember him just before the First World War. they
remember him simply as "Old Edgar" and some as
"Spring-heeled Jack" because of his splay-footed gait. He
was "scrog-footed" as they say in Suffolk. They remember
him as a tramp-like figure, walking along the roadside wearing a tall hat,
a labouring type, who - as they put it - tapping their temples with the
tips of their fingers - "had it up there", often out of work but
always neatly dressed and they remember him going from cottage door to
cottage door in the village, alone, at Christmas time, singing carols and
- they are all agreed about this - with an awful voice! We
know, too, that during the 1930's some Suffolk folk songs were taken down
here from a man who almost knew Harvey.

The voice that breathed o'er Little Stonham, and brought something like
fire and brimstone in its train, did, do something to keep music alive.